


come on baby and rescue me

by BelovedCreation



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Enchanted Forest, Alternate Universe - No Curse, F/M, Princess Emma Swan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 17:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3257894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelovedCreation/pseuds/BelovedCreation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Princess Emma has been locked in a tower for decades, waiting for someone to come rescue her. (Good thing her dragon companion scares away the jerks.) But when a pirate captain comes looking for something other than a chance to marry a princess, Emma jumps at the chance to finally be free.</p>
            </blockquote>





	come on baby and rescue me

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this awesome comic (http://www.portsherry.com/comics/helping-the-princess/) because, c'mon, this is totally something Princess Emma would do.

8,015

Emma draws the line on the page, a morning habit forged almost twenty-two years ago, and closes the journal filled with tiny lines clumped in groups of five. Just another day in a crumbling castle guarded by a fearsome dragon.

She rolls out of bed and splashes some water on her face, rubbing a bit of lavender essence on her wrists and pinning back her long blonde hair. No need for it to get in the way as she goes about her chores. She scurries down the neatly-swept tower steps and down into the small garden. Some wild strawberries will be divine for breaking her fast, along with a thick wedge of the bread she baked the day before and some goat's milk. The animals will need tending to as well, but Emma doesn't worry about them quite yet. She enjoys the stillness of the morning and the pink light filling the flourishing courtyard.

A loud  _boom_  and a shower of tiny rocks heralds the dragon's return to the castle. Emma waves at her and crosses the garden in a flash, entering the creaky door on the other side of the courtyard and hurries up the winding staircase to greet the dragon.

"Alessia! You're back!" She reaches out a hand to pat the dragon's enormous knee, the cool scales slippery against her fingers.

Alessia purrs deeply and tucks her wings in, settling down on all fours and giving Emma a kindly look with her deep purple eyes. "It took me a few days to find a farm I hadn't stolen livestock from before." She licks her enormous chops. "They must put something really good in their feed."

Emma pats her again and smiles. "That's alright, Alessia. I just missed you while you were gone." She grins and pops a strawberry into her mouth. "Don't know what I would have done if another prince would have shown up in the meantime."

The dragon laughs, the vibrations shaking the aging stone, and Emma has to clutch onto the rampart to keep from landing on her ass. "You would have found a way to dispose of him if he was undesirable."

The princess plops down on the ground. "I don't know about that. So far, my sword fighting practice has been disappointingly one-sided."

"If you would just allow me to kidnap a knight or soldier from the nearby village..." Alessia trails off, jerking her giant head toward a town Emma cannot see, has never seen.

Emma shakes her own head and bits into another berry. "No, I'll just keep practicing on my own. I don't want some guy to get the idea he can rescue me from you or something."

Alessia chuckles again and Emma is very glad she sat down. "Why don't you show me what you've been working on while I have been gone, Princess Emma." She spreads her wings and floats down to the courtyard, ready to give advice to the royal.

* * *

 

Most of Emma's days pass something like this. Breakfast, followed by working on her fighting techniques - learned from dusty books in the library. Then tending to the animals, washing up, lunch, attempting artwork or poetry or something new from another book, taking care of the animals again, gardening, dinner, and the evening ends by the fire, reading a storybook to Alessia.

Since Emma was six years old, she has been in this giant castle, far from civilization. Her parents, the princess Snow White and the prince David, were cursed by Emma's step-grandmother, the Evil Queen Regina, and put into an eternal slumber. Such a curse can only be broken by True Love's Kiss, and with both of her parents asleep, there is no way they can wake one another up. Regina must have taken pity on the tiny heir to the throne, as she decided not to kill her, but to banish her instead. Alessia is quite a friendly dragon, and she was apparently just a young peasant maiden until Regina transformed her into a giant beast. She is a sweet companion and Emma is glad to have someone to talk with. If Alessia could, she would fly Emma back home straight away and let the princess kiss her parents and break the spell. Alas, although Regina didn't think to make the dragon evil, she did think to keep Alessia from being able to travel with Emma on her back.

Instead, Emma must wait to be rescued by someone who knows where the hell her parents are.

It is a sad state of affairs, and Emma is really bothered by the sexist implications of the whole thing. She's read enough tomes on gender to be familiar with how problematic the damsel-in-distress trope is. She'd be happy enough to leave with another woman, or even someone who doesn't identify as either sex - if only the people who keep making their way out to her ancient castle weren't such  _assholes_.

If it weren't for Alessia, Emma would be stuck with the first person who came to get her, some dick who  _wasn't even a knight for goodness' sake_  but came from the local village and declared himself 'Lord Walsh' and demanded that the dragon give the princess up to him before he proved his superior skills with the sword.

Alessia swallowed him in one gulp and spit back out the sword. Emma was grateful for a proper weapon for her training and didn't think twice about the death of the douchebag. Really, who comes after a princess who's only fifteen? Sounds pretty creepy. Her only regret was that 'Lord Walsh' gave Alessia an ugly case of indigestion. The two decided to run away the knights from then on, just to be safe.

Emma is just finishing off a lovely egg and cheese sandwich when she hears the telltale sound of hooves upon the drawbridge. "Someone's coming!" she breathes, rousing Alessia from her afternoon nap. "Wake up, you good for nothing dragon, our afternoon entertainment has arrived!"

One enormous amethyst eye flies open, followed by the other one. Alessia stands, stretches, and flaps her wings twice to float up to the top of the tower. Emma scampers across the garden, takes the stairs two at a time, and slides across the floor of the roof, keeping out of sight so she can listen to the exchange.

The dragon lets out an enormous roar, shaking the castle foundations and making Emma cover up her mouth as she giggles behind her hand. Alessia really knows how to scare 'em. A huge ball of fire shoots to the sky and Emma hopes this isn't another knight who shits himself when he's scared, because it was really gross cleaning up after the last one.

"Who dare disturbs my castle?" Alessia booms, using a ridiculously deep tone.

"Step aside, dragon," yells an accented voice, almost sounding amused. "I have no wish to harm you, I only seek the princess."

"What does he look like?" Emma hisses, trying desperately not to peek.

Alessia lowers her head and glares at the drawbridge, opening the side of her mouth and hissing, "He's young, pretty cute. If I were a human again I'd go for him."

"Ask him what he wants."

"What business do you have with my princess?"

The man chuckles, and Emma figures he must have balls of steel because she has  _never in her life_  heard someone chuckle in the face of Alessia. "The same business you have with the princess, I imagine. I wish to kidnap her and hold her for ransom."

Emma's eyebrows shoot to her forehead.  _Well this is a new one_. The dragon gives her a quick look and Emma gestures to let the man go on. She wants to hear more.

"Ransom? You do not want to rescue her from my talons and bring her back to her parents and marry her and rule her kingdom?" Emma rolls her eyes. Could Alessia be more obvious about Emma's greatest fears when it come to be 'rescued'?

"You're laying it on a little thick there," she snaps. Alessia gives her a look.

He laughs again. "I doubt that the lovely Princess Emma wishes to marry a pirate captain.

Pirate captain? Emma  _has_  to see this. "Distract him," she whispers. "Fly to another tower so I can sneak a peek."

The rush of wind blows Emma's hair around her face and she quickly shoves it behind her ears before twisting to peer down at the ground.

"A pirate captain? Hardly sounds like a trustworthy person," Alessia bellows as she flies away. Emma rolls her eyes. There had been a thief she had almost let steal her years ago, but Alessia insisted on scaring him off. In hindsight, it was a wise decision. Emma  _had_  only been seventeen. But there were months that Emma refused to read to her guardian and it had taken a particularly pompous duchess to get them to laugh together again.

He's handsome. Or at least Emma thinks he is, although she must admit most of the men she has seen were from her childhood or drawn in books or waving swords at Alessia. This man is doing no such thing, his cutlass still in its sheath and his right thumb tucked into his belt buckle, quite at ease to be sitting astride a black steed and chatting with a dragon. His other arm is gesticulating as he talks, and instead of a hand he waves a glinting steel hook. The man has dark hair and a sharp jawline and a roguish smile on his face.

"Believe me, Madame Dragon, if you have dealt with royals as much as I have, you will understand that at least a pirate follows a code, carries some honor. Royals are only looking for power and control."

 _Madame Dragon?_ Emma can see Alessia preen under the title and she can already tell she's a goner. The maiden-turned-dragon is clay in this man's hands.

Or hand, as it were.

"Was it not the Evil Queen Regina who banished you to imprison Princess Emma in a tower in this castle?" the man continues, hook flashing. "Not to be trusted, the whole lot of them. But if you allow me to take the princess off of your very powerful and lovely hands, you may be free to live your own life without this burden."

Emma's heart sinks for a moment because this man is making a pretty solid argument. Poor Alessia didn't ask for this. She just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and got turned into a dragon. Maybe she wants to leave Emma and find a way to reverse her curse. The princess is about to stand up and reveal herself when the dragon roars and shoots another tongue of flames into the sky, this time making warmth flash across Emma's face.

"You will stop talking about Emma that way, dirty pirate, or I will be eating you for lunch!" Alessia's tail rises to the sky and her face glares down at the pirate, making her resemble a huge, scaled javelin, poised to attack. The horse, which had been nervously shuffling throughout the conversation, finally rears up and unseats the man. He lands with a rough  _umph,_ a pile of black leather on the bridge.

"Bloody hell," he curses, standing up slowly and rubbing his rear end. "I did not understand that you and the princess were friends, Madame Dragon." He bows elaborately. "My apologies. Perhaps the princess will show her face and I could speak to her face-to-face? I imagine she must be looking on somewhere." He peers around mildly, eyes flashing when Emma finally stands up and awkwardly waves.

"Hello there," she calls, feeling her face flush. "How did you know?"

The man laughs and takes his horse by the reigns, patting it lovingly. "Only a true friend would become that enraged by a simple slight. Would you mind letting me in the door, love? My arse is terribly sore from the ride and from Madame Dragon terrifying my steed. I could do with a cushion and perhaps some rum, if you have any?"

"Alright," she shoots back, still wary. "I'll open the door. But if you try any funny business, Alessia won't hesitate to turn you into barbecue."

"I assume that is the name of your lovely guardian. I assure you, princess, any attack on my part would be poor form, and thus morally repulsive."

* * *

 

His name is Killian Jones, although he goes by the name Captain Hook. Emma believes that this is a name lacking imagination, and tells him that she refuses to call him that.

"So,  _Killian_ ," she asks once they have settled in the garden with a cushion under his rear and a bottle of homemade dandelion wine between them, "who do you think you will be able to ransom me off to when both of my parents are cursed and the Evil Queen wants me far away?"

"There are those who would benefit from your waking your parents up, princess. Economically, socially, politically. I intend to give you to the highest bidder and let them claim the honor and glory. I really only want some more gold in my pockets."

Emma taps her fingers to her lips, thinking quickly. "I like your plan, but why not cut out the middleman? Just escort me to my parents yourself. We have all sorts of jewels in the royal treasury. I promise you whatever you would like in exchange for services rendered. Titles, royal pardons..."

Killian takes a sip of the wine. "Shouldn't it really be a prince who takes you to your parents, love? I assume he would be rewarded with your hand in marriage."

She wrinkles her nose and, from the other end of the courtyard, Alessia's chuckles rumble the ground. "Believe me, Captain, that's the absolute last thing I want."

"Ah," he nods. "You would rather be rescued by a princess."

"No no no," she waves her hand, for some reason thinking it important that he fully understands. "You don't get it. The only one who saves me is me, Captain. I'm not a reward you get for a job well done. I'm a person. So you can either help take me to my parents and expect to get anything you want but my hand in marriage, or you can go back to your ship. Because there's no way I'm leaving if I don't want to." She crosses her arms across her chest and attempts to level him with a withering gaze. She's never tried this look on anyone but her beastly companion, so she is not sure how this will go.

He seems suitably convinced, however, and after a long, lingering sweep of her body, his blue eyes seeing a little more than she is comfortable with, he finally nods and gives her a look of approval. "Fair enough, princess. I accept your terms." He reaches out his hand and she shakes it firmly.

* * *

 

When Killian Jones set out to search for the long lost Princess Emma, he was not sure what he would find. Certainly not this spitfire who scrambles up to her bedroom to collect her belongings, leaving him alone with a fearsome dragon.

"Please take care of her," the Madame Dragon asks, a giant tear slipping down her face. "She hasn't been anywhere but this castle in almost twenty-two years. She's smart as a whip, but she doesn't know the ways of the world. Don't take advantage of her, Captain."

Killian gives her a bow and grins. "I would not dare, Madame Dragon. A princess who befriends fearsome beasts such as yourself is not one to be trifled with."

The princess returns wearing brown leathers, her gorgeous blonde curls swept up and an excited smile spread across her face. If not for the promise of a princess' ransom, Killian would be sorely tempted to woo this lovely maiden, with eyes like the sea on a clear day and a wit as sharp as his sword. He gave up on love a long, long time ago, when the Dark One ripped out the heart of his beloved Milah. But there is a lively spirit in this princess that makes his stomach drop and he hasn't felt this giddy since his return to the Enchanted Forest two years prior.

"Shall we be off, your highness?" The princess races toward the dragon and wraps her arms around the thick neck, shoulders shaking in silent sobs. She whispers her goodbyes to the beast, and when she turns to face Killian again, her cheeks are covered in tears.

"I am ready, Captain," she tells him, not looking back.

He admires her bravery.

What he admires less is how she puts up a fight when they get on the horse.

"I am not sitting on your lap, Killian," she argues, and he does not fail to notice she has dropped his title. "Let me ride behind you and-"

"And then you'll fall off and break your royal arse and we will be stuck here for weeks while you recover. Not going to happen, princess. You'll sit in front of me where I can see you." He swings himself up onto the steed and offers her his right arm. "So what shall it be? Do you want your freedom or not?"

He knows he has hit a nerve because her eyes flash with fire and she lets him pull her up without further argument. "Freedom," she says. "Always freedom."

When she tucks herself between his legs, pressing her arse to his groin and he holds on to her delicate hipbones for balance, he realizes perhaps he should have told her to sit herself behind him instead. But then her arms would be wrapped around his waist and... Maybe two horses then. As soon as he can secure one, another horse.

To keep him out of trouble.

* * *

 

"Who's Milah?"

It is the third day of their journey and they finally have another horse, stolen from a field. He already misses the feel of her tucked against him and the scent of her enticing him as they ride for hours on end. But the name of his deceased love passing from her lips sends a shiver of pain and anger through him.

"Where the hell did you hear that name?"

"In your sleep." Her cheeks flush and, for the first time in three days, she looks apologetic. "You kept saying her name last night. It sounded like a nightmare."

"It doesn't matter," he grunts, pulling his horse ahead of hers so she cannot see the pain in his eyes. "She is just a person from long ago."

But that night, when he wakes covered in sweat, voice hoarse and visions of her heart being crushed swimming in his mind, gentle fingers brush his damp hair off of his forehead.

"You're safe now," she soothes, making gentle shushing sounds. "No one can hurt you; you're safe."

He wants to shake her off, to shove her away like he has with all the other women who hear his nightmares. But there is something kind in her eyes, something that passes no judgment. Without thinking about the consequences or what will happen in the morning, he touches the place beside him on the ground and silently asks her for what he is not strong enough to articulate. She nods and brings her bedroll next to his. The princess climbs under her blankets and extends her arm out, creating a place for Killian to slide over and rest his head on her chest.

If he soaks her bodice with his lingering tears, she either does not notice, or does not care.

In the morning, his first realization is that they have moved positions in the middle of the night. Although he fell asleep in the comfort of her soft bosom and her gentle fingers in his hair, he wakes up with her own golden locks tickling his nose and his hand splayed across her lower back as her head rises and falls with every breath he takes.

Her fingers clutch at his waist and her head burrows into his chest and he wonders whether she is sleeping or stirring. Slowly, the princess turns her face to him like a flower finally blooming and her eyes blink open, jade and emerald and sparkling like priceless jewels. "Morning," she breathes, a dreamy smile dawning, making his heart flutter.

Killian is afraid to break this strange spell, to remind her that he is the vicious pirate who has kidnapped her, not her lover. But he still smiles back at her roughly. "Morning, love," he whispers back.

It starts with a furrow of her brow, then a question in her eyes he is afraid to answer. Her body stiffens and she sits up, still leaning over him but pulling away from his touch. "Shit, I'm sorry," she mutters. Although her left cheek is flush from being pressed against his chest, her right cheek is turning red and threatening to create a matched set. He chuckles.

The princess buries her face into her hands and groans. "Dammit, this is so embarrassing, you must think I am such a silly little girl, cuddling a fucking pirate captain!"

He laughs harder and attempts to pry her fingers away from her lovely face. "Love, I am not laughing because we were having a cuddle. I rather enjoyed  _that_. I am laughing because you are a bloody princess and you swear worse than some of my own crew."

Her eyes finally peek out through her fingers and he can make out the grimace her enchanting mouth is twisted in. "Really?"

"Really, Emma, it is quite fine."

She runs her hands up her face and combs through her tangled hair. Then she gives him a curious look. "You just called me Emma."

"Did I?" He feels his own face heating up. "I apologize, your highne-"

The princess cuts him off with a dismissive flick of her wrist. "Don't. We just woke up tangled together. I think you can call me Emma."

He clears his throat, wondering why it is suddenly thick. "In that case,  _Emma,_  we had better pack up camp. If we eat along the way we should be able to make it to the castle before sundown."

After three days of spirited conversation, the final day of travel is strangely silent. Killian can feel a tension in the air that was not there before they fell asleep together and he cannot quite decide if he regrets his actions. On the one hand, it will make letting her go at the end of this day harder. He knows how it feels to be held in his arms and to hold her in turns. He knows the calmness that she brings and the strange protection he has never felt before - him, a pirate captain, who strikes fear into the hearts of all he battles against. But her words on the day they met echo in his mind and he must face the facts that the absolute last thing she wants is for the man who takes her from the dragon-protected castle to expect her as a reward for his struggles.

He will take whatever gold she offers and leave her to reunite with her family.

And he... he will take The Jolly Roger and sail off into the sunset, looking for more gold to steal and more ships to plunder.

* * *

 

Emma must admit she has plenty of reasons to thank the pirate.

He has an excellent sense of direction. He pulls out a compass to examine their route only twice in the four day's journey. The rest of the time he guides them without thinking about it.

He is a superior horseman. She hasn't ridden since she was six years old, and her lessons from childhood are understandably fuzzy. The captain was incredibly patient on their third day, taking the stolen mare for himself and letting her go at a snail's pace until she was comfortable. When she finally got the hang of things, he gave her a dazzling grin that made her heart beat so quickly that she almost fell off the horse.

Killian Jones is a fascinating conversationalist. Her discussions with Alessia have always been excellent, but she was an illiterate peasant maiden. Killian has actually  _lived._ He has seen the world over and spent years in a whole other land. He has her in stitches and in tears with his stories, and when she laments about the inherent problems of damsels in distresses, he nods seriously and tells her he wouldn't dare rescue a woman without her permission and she sees no trace of joking in his sapphire eyes.

He is also quite lovely to curl up with, although she would not admit that for all of the gold in her parents' treasury. And it will probably take all of that gold to appease him, the greedy pirate.

But most of all, she must admit that she should thank Killian Jones for sparring with her when they take rests for the horses. It was only with his tutelage - and she knows this despite his arguments that she was  _bloody brilliant_  on her own - that the two of them are able to take down the dozen Black Knights protecting her parents.

"Excellent job, your highness," Killian grins, wiping his sword on the tunic of one of the fallen knights.

"Couldn't have done it without you," she smiles back, heart beating from adrenaline most likely caused by the sword fighting.

And so not caused by the dimples that appear when he beams.

She sheaths her own sword and tugs open the heavy door, pulse pounding in her ears. The sight inside makes her gasp at the beauty and the cruelty.

Snow White and Prince Charming are resting in glass coffins, dressed in their wedding clothes. She holds a white rose on her chest and a sword rests on his. The room is lit by an unnatural, magical light that makes their skin glitter and sparkle and, though she has vague memories of her parents, they are more beautiful than her dreams.

"Mama," she whispers, tears spilling onto her cheeks. "Daddy." Emma stands between the coffins, able to rest her hands on each of them. The Evil Queen must have been so fucking pleased with herself, laying them side-by-side, able to touch if only they could be awoken.

"Help me, Killian," she asks, finally looking up and catching his eyes. There is something fierce and protective about his gaze, but it goes away as quickly as it had come and he only nods.

"Which one?"

She turns to her right and looks down at her father, remembering those riding lessons and those dueling lessons he given her all those years ago. "Him."

With Killian's aid, Emma pulls off the glass top and sets it on the dusty ground. Apparently Regina only polishes the coffins, not the floor they rest upon. She strokes her father's face, still young and healthy as he was twenty-two years ago, when he was cursed. They almost appear to be the same age, she and her father, and this realization is so strange to her she almost laughs.

Instead, Emma leans forward and presses her lips to his forehead. A burst of magic radiates from where she kisses him, and she doesn't have to see him stirring to realize that she has broken the curse.

With a gasp, his eyes fly open, clear and blue. "What happened?" he asks. "Where am I?"

Emma has never been accused of being quiet, but in this case words fail her. Mouth floundering open and shut, she turns to look at Killian, begging him to speak for her.

"You and your lovely wife were put under a sleeping curse, mate. You have just been woken up."

Her father sits up, blinking in confusion at the pirate before returning his gaze to Emma. "But if that was a sleeping curse, it could only be broken by True Love's Kiss..." He trails off, eyes widening as he takes in Emma's blonde hair and green eyes. "Emma?"

"It's me, Daddy," she nods, eyes pooling with tears again. "I've come to rescue you."

He clutches her to him and she can feel sobs wrack his body. "That's my girl," he whispers in her ear. "That's my little girl." After a few minutes of holding one another, he pulls away and tries to exit the glass coffin. Extracting himself takes the help of both Killian and Emma, as his muscles appear to be fatigued from lack of use. "Why don't I take this one?" he asks, looking down at her mother with pure love in his eyes. "Old habits, you know." The three of them pull the lid off easily and Emma gets to see her parents' True Love Kiss for herself, unashamedly wiping away a tear.

"There there, love," Killian mutters, his own voice thick with feeling. He holds out the scarf that dangles from his throat and she takes it and dabs at her eyes.

Her father pulls her mother from the glass coffin and when Snow White spots her daughter her face lights up with joy. "Emma!" she shouts and the princess finds herself wrapped in her mother's arms, her father pressed behind her and no breath in her lungs but love overflowing in her heart.

"How long were we asleep for?" Snow White asks after she recovers, voice a little shaky but still the authoritative ruler Emma remembers.

"Twenty two years."

"Oh, Emma," Snow White's face crumbles and she looks in danger of losing it again, if not for Charming's arm around her shoulders. "We missed  _everything._  Your first ball, your first crush, your first love, your first-" She spots Killian and her eyes grow wide. "Dear, is this your husband?"

The pirate shakes his head. "No, your highness, not in the slightest."

Trying not to wonder what  _that_  means, Emma drags Killian over and gestures to him with a flourish. "Mama, Daddy, this is Killian Jones, aka Captain Hook. He rescued me and brought me here."

"Rescued you?" Snow bursts out at the same time as Charming shouts, "Captain Hook?"

Emma rolls her eyes. "Yes, Captain Hook, but I think the name is terribly unoriginal so I refuse to call him anything but Killian. Or Captain, depending on if he's being an asshole or not. And yes, he rescued me, because while you two were getting beauty sleep for twenty-two years, I was locked in a tower with a dragon." Her parents open their mouths to interject again, so she cuts him off with a sigh and a, "Don't worry, Alessia is a really nice dragon who took care of me and I never went to bed hungry." She pauses. "Lonely sometimes, but never hungry."

Snow White nods in a distracted sort of way, as if this is much too much information for her to process at the present, but she will be addressing it when she gets a chance.

"So what is the state of our kingdom?" David asks.

The princess looks to the pirate because she honestly never thought to ask him that question in four days. "Queen Regina rules with an iron fist. The common people hate her, along with many of the nobles. But no one dare rebels for fear of her wrath. I could take you to one of the resistance camps nearby. I am sure that with the two of you reemerging, it will not take long for you to reclaim your kingdom."

"And our treasury," Emma adds.

Killian gives her a strange look she cannot quite process. "I suppose so," he mutters.

* * *

 

Her mother looks like she's dying to ask all sorts of questions about Emma's childhood alone and maybe even about Captain Hook, but frankly Emma is too exhausted to provide answers. The journey to the secret camp takes only a few hours. Her parents ride together, looking hopelessly in love and comfortable, and Emma is back with Killian. She saw how her father gave the pirate a look when they climbed on their horses, but he must have done the quick math and realized this was the best possible combination, even if it meant his daughter was being held in the arms of Captain Hook.

He doesn't have to tell her that he will be leaving after dropping them off at the camp - Emma can just tell. So she does not pull away from him as they ride together. She leans against his strong, muscled chest and takes the reigns in her hands and moans in contentment when she drags his arms around her waist and she can feel him holding her, secure and gentle and protective.

"Princess, my hook-" he protests, but she only places the reigns in her right hand and rests her other hand upon his brace, rubbing the tough leather under her fingers and relishing the way his breathing hitches when she slides a finger along the the gleaming metal.

"I thought I told you to call me Emma," she admonishes softly. She turns her head to look him in the eye for a moment. "And I don't care about the damned hook."

He must understand what she means because he gives her a wavering smile and tightens his arms around her. "Yes Emma," he whispers in her ear.

She turns her gaze back to the path and tries to memorize what this feeling is like, how it is to be held by someone special.

They arrive at the camp and Killian makes the introductions, vouching for the resistance leader, a man named Robin. Although all three royals ask him to stay - David less convincingly - Killian gives them a halfhearted smile and claims that he needs to be off.

"You must return to see us," Snow White orders before he leaves. "When we have taken back our kingdom, you have to come to the palace and claim your reward."

"Whatever you desire from the royal treasury," Emma chimes in, hoping he does not see the disappointment that must be written across her face.

"It remains to be seen if any reward that you offer me could be truly satisfactory, majesties," Killian counters, a bit of his bravado returning. "I  _am_ a greedy pirate, after all."

* * *

 

It does not take long for word to reach him that Snow White and Prince Charming overthrew the Evil Queen Regina, with the help of their daughter Princess Emma. He did not doubt their inevitable victory for a minute.

That is not why he set sail for the other end of the world as soon as he returned to The Jolly Roger.

It was not a lack of faith.

It was because he knew that were he to return to their kingdom, any jewels or gold or titles that they offered him would be cheap and worthless compared to the real prize he desired, the real reward that he knows he can never win because it is not something you can earn and it is not something that can be bought or sold.

So he drinks a lot and he inhales the fresh salt air and he practices his sword fighting daily on the deck and he tries to exhaust himself so he can sleep dreamless, not haunted by jade eyes and golden hair and a single finger tracing the curve of his damn hook and telling him that  _she doesn't care_  about the blasted thing.

Because when he dreams about that, about her gentle gaze and the softness of her body against his, he starts to wonder if perhaps it all meant something, if it turned out that she was amenable to marrying her rescuer, or even just allowing him to court her like a proper gentleman.

Him? Captain Hook? A gentleman?

That sort of idiotic thought makes him laugh until his eyes tear up.

He is standing idly at the helm when he first gets that prickle in his spine telling him something is wrong. Killian pulls out his spyglass to scan the horizon, looking for another ship or a leviathan, anything that would spell out danger. But when the sails fill with air and he hears the loud drum of wings hovering above water, he knows in an instant that he has faced this creature before.

"Madame Dragon, how do you do today?" he asks, cranking his head to look at the creature. "I have missed you."

The beast lands on the water with surprising grace, tucking her wings and floating easily. With her curved neck peering down at him, Alessia looks like a giant, scaly swan.

"I missed you too, Captain Hook," the dragon booms, wide mouth parting into what could be a smile.

"I thought I said that we can't call him that," comes another voice, this one higher-pitched and infinitely more sarcastic. "We must call him by the name his mother gave him. Although I am not sure if his mother named him Killian, because the asshole never told me about his mom."

As Alessia floats closer, Killian can better make out Princess Emma, standing on the dragon's back, dressed in her leathers and hands firmly on her hips. Without explanation, the princess takes a rope that is wrapped around her waist, wraps one end around her wrist, and makes a loop with the other end. As if they have been practicing it for ages, Emma throws the loop into Alessia's mouth and the dragon lifts the princess up in the air and places her on the ship's deck right in front of Killian. His men stare at the dragon and the princess, agog. He shoos them away with a glare and they scatter like rats.

"I would have asked for permission to come aboard," Emma continues nonchalantly, tucking the rope into neat circles around her forearm, "but I've never been one for listening to authority."

"Rather amusing that," Killian sputters, finding his voice through teasing, "as you are, in fact, a princess, and thus an authority figure."

Emma grins, finally looking up to meet his eyes, and he remembers anew how stunning she is. "Then you get my joke."

Scrambling to find words to fit in his mouth, Killian gestures to the giant creature splashing in the sea. "It looks like you and Madame Dragon finally got to fly together."

She nods. "Yeah. Regina's magic was stripped before we thought about making her reverse the curse. So we had to get the fairies to help. All they could do was get rid of those stipulations, not the fact that she was a dragon. So they're still working on it. For now, we're trying to intimate some of the kingdoms who sided with Regina against us." She holds up the rope. "Using this to be safe until we get the hang of things. And it does come in handy for moving me around."

"Ah." Killian is not sure what part to respond to: the curses, the dragon, the intimidation, or the fact that she is here at all. "Always glad to have visitors love, especially from old friends like Alessia, but would you care to tell me what exactly you are doing here on my ship?"

Emma finally sets down the infernal rope and takes a few steps forward, close enough to touch and hold and..  _kiss_. But her hands are back on her hips and her green eyes are angry.

"I'm here because you never came back to claim your prize, you douche bag."

Killian can feel his eyebrows rise. "And here I thought turning the tide - excuse the phrase - of politics and economics the world over was prize enough."

"Bullshit."

He blinks and finds himself fiddling nervously with his hook, playing with the catch that secures and releases it. "Come again, princess?"

"I said  _bullshit_. She takes another step forward and, gods above, she still smells like lavender. "Because if all you cared about was money, you would have showed up the day we reclaimed the palace and the royal treasury and demanded your reward. And you would have taken the title and sold it off to get even more gold."

Killian feels his lips curl into an angry smile, not sure why she is so upset and knowing he should reason with her but instead being fueled on by her rage. "That does sound like something I would do, love."

Her foot slams down on the deck like a petulant five-year-old and she finally screams, temper boiling over. "Then maybe you should have fucking showed up like I expected instead of hiding out on your damn ship!" Her eyes cut to where he is still clicking and unclicking his moniker to his brace. "And another thing!" she continues, voice rising, "Stop playing with your fucking hook, it is not the most important part of you!" She twists it, pulling it free of the locking mechanism, and digs it into the mast beside them.

His voice is strangely rough as he brings his now-empty hand up to scratch behind his ear. "So what is the most important part of me?"

She catches his fingers on the downward trajectory and holds it between her own soft palms. The princess takes a final step forward and she cannot be any closer to him without kissing him, her dark lashes fluttering as she looks up and her teeth worrying her bottom lip before she responds.

"The most important part of you is your laugh."

He swallows, unsure of where she is going with this.

"Your laugh is the first thing I liked about you, the first thing that made me think that maybe you were different, maybe I could trust you. And your ass, I like your ass." He chuckles a bit at that one and it brings a smile to her face. Killian does not miss that her hands are trembling slightly. "I mean, I like the shape of your ass," she continues, rolling her eyes. "But I also like that you fell on it on the drawbridge and you laughed about it." She shrugs.

Killian wants to tell her that he likes her arse as well, but this feels like a time when she will talk. His time to admire her comes later.

"You came here to tell me you liked my laugh? ...And my arse?"

She clutches his hand tighter, the rings pressing into her flesh. "I came here to yell at you for not coming back."

"Princess-" he begins.

"Emma," she corrects.

"Highness," he shoots back, "I did not believe it would be good form for me to return."

"Because what you want is more valuable than what we have in the treasury?" Her eyes leave his, focusing on their hands.

"Yes," he agrees, taking a deep breath. "And because what I want is not found in the treasury. It is not something that I can win or earn."

He watches the muscles of her throat work as she swallows, wondering if her own mouth has grown as dry as his. And she licks her lips intoxicatingly before finally looking at him again, hope and caution in her eyes.

"What if it were given?" she asks.

"But what about the implications of the-"

Emma cuts him off with a finger to his lips. "There would be no implications if the damsel rescued herself as well. And if she wanted to be with her rescuer." She moves her warm palm to his cheek and smiles, soft and inviting. "Because she loved him."

Killian Jones has always considered himself a man who knew what to say in every situation. But in this case, he knows that sometimes words are not enough. So he finally closes the last, lingering distance between them, pressing his lips against hers and pulling her to his body, arms wrapped around her back and hips fitted against hers and not lasting long before his tongue demands entrance and his teeth nibble that full lower lip of hers. He has not nearly had his fill of her when she pries his lips from hers, but when he sees how much she is beaming, he cannot be upset with her.

"She loves him?" he asks, needing to hear the words, needing to know for sure. "Even though he is a pirate?"

"Maybe even  _especially_  because he is a pirate," she counters, face flushing. "And how does he feel about her? She is a princess after all."

He steps forward again, lips almost touching hers. "She may have changed his mind about royalty."

"Not all bad?"

"Not all bad," he echoes. "In fact, he may have found a princess he could swear loyalty to."

Her brows rise and her eyes widen. "Is that so?"

* * *

 

Despite their best efforts, Alessia is still a dragon on the day of the ceremony. In order to cater to their largest and, arguably, most important guest, the event is held outside, in one of the palace courtyards. Alessia cries large dragon tears, Snow White weeps as well, and even Prince Charming is seen wiping his eyes. He will later claim it is because his daughter is marrying a pirate, but his daily spars with the captain and the pints the two of them share at the local pub when they get the chance betrays the sovereign's true feelings.

Alessia is on hand to fly the newlyweds to the crumbing castle for their honeymoon, promising that the secluded hideaway has been repaired under Snow White's careful eye and will be an excellent site for relaxation and romance.

"What do you say, love?" Killian asks, carrying her across the drawbridge when the dragon's wings can no longer be heard. "Do you regret letting me rescue you?"

He sets her down and wraps his arms around her, the love in his gaze reflected in her own. "I don't know, husband, do you regret letting me rescue you?" she teases.

"Never, princess."

She kisses him, deep and passionate. "Then I suppose its settled, pirate."


End file.
